Today was written in Technicolor.

It was like waking up from a nap on a huge open field and seeing the greenest of all greens in the grass and the bluest of blues in the sky and the most blinding whites in the clouds.

It was the warmest brown in the eyes of the one who is laying next to you.

And the day rolls by slowly, in the sharpest focus. It is perfect and not too hot and not too windy and I feel as though it should last forever because I do not want to leave this day or this moment.

But the sun surely sinks, until it is at the edge of the horizon and it casts a sepia light over the world. Under this light, where before I had thought it could not get more beautiful, it is like a dream, where the world is frozen in amber.

Brown Eyes laughs when I ask if we could stay here forever. We cannot, for the sun sets and the stars appear and shine and laugh with Brown Eyes.

I laugh too, but it is odd laughter for behind it’s sound is a melancholic harmony, one that comes after technicolor days.

Because now the world might seem a bit bland and empty.

Technicolor days are sad and beautiful.